Logs:Isyath and Vhaeryth's Clutch Hatches
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| RL Date: 22 June, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, Aislara, Ali, Alida, Azaylia, B'rant, Bria, Dal, Denali, E'ten, Elise, Giada, Hattie, K'zin, N'muir, N'rad, N'rov, Oreithiya, R'co, Razi, Reesa, Vashelle, Wyriker |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Isyath and Vhaeryth's clutch hatches. Midway through, more candidates appear from nowhere, to the obvious concern of many. |
| Where: Hatching Sands, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 1, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| From the sands, It may be snowing outside, but those drifting white flecks melt long before they reach the warmth of the hatching caverns. Vhaeryth's the first to start humming, realization and surprise becoming a vibrant baritone swell of pride - and it's not long before the noise shudders the walls of the cavern as other dragons join in - even Isyath, finally stilling enough to throw her head back and join in the crescendo. Nor is it long before their riders make their way back to the sands on those stacked sandals of theirs, anxiously (or perhaps impatiently) waiting for the arrival of the candidates. N'rov mutters down to Ali's ear, the twitch of his mouth amused. She's the experienced one here, though, and he follows her lead, giving in to the excitement of what may well be once in a lifetime. From the sands, Ali's doing her best to look calm and composed. It's Isyath's third clutch, but it seems she hasn't quite got it down pat yet - that or she's just /that/ excited, which is just as likely. She's murmuring something in response to N'rov but her gaze never leaves the eggs. Isyath, despite her impatience to be /free/ of the sands, is caught up in the moment, too, her humming echoing loudly over the clutch of thirteen eggs as the candidates arrive. From the sands, Elise didn't forget to grab Dal's hand, don't worry, and she's still holding onto it when they're told to move out onto the sands. 'Holding onto' might be the wrong description, since she tangled her sweaty fingers in his and is squeezing them terribly. She does /not/ look back to the people in the galleries, perhaps too afraid for the people she will (or won't) see but she /does/ bow to the clutch's parents like she was told to do. Her wide eyes stare fixated at the eggs. From the sands, Dal doesn't seem to object to the pressure Elise is putting onto his poor fingers - or maybe it's that his own grip is tighter than he might have intended to be, especially once they're out on the sands, and everything is spread in front of him. He takes a deep breath, and then a second, then tugs his companion off towards a convenient standing location. "Shells," he breaths, and no, he's not sounding quite as calm and composed anymore. From the sands, Oreithiya's third time onto the sands are no less nerve-wracking than the first two times. The sight of the eggs, the caverns, the dragons and riders have the girl's eyes as wide as they'll go, the whites showing around dark irises so much moreso than would be normal. A deep breath is sucked in, as her hand clutches at Giada's and Vashelle's, almost involuntarily, though whether they clutch back she doesn't even register. A bow to the clutch parents, and a quick glance to the galleries -- perhaps to see if her aunt and uncle made it -- and she's turning to the eggs. And biting her lip. /Hard/. From the sands, As Bria files her way out onto the sands with the other candidates, it's Elise and Dal that she seems to stick closest, too. In fact, she might even try to grab at Elise's other hand when she isn't paying attention. You guys didn't want any privacy, right? No? Good! Because there's none here on the sands. From the sands, Girl on Fire Egg stirs, shivering in its cradle of sand. It doesn't take long for the glowing egg to begin rocking as if it could free itself from soft sand and find a harsher surface against which to shatter itself, its unseen occupant displaying an obvious determination to be free. From the sands, Reesa trails out behind the group of candidates, hovering near the back like she's watching to see if any of them try to escape. Her summer dress is well-suited to the heat of the sands, if not the weather outside. Once she's satisfied with where the candidates are set up, she settles in to watch with arms folded across her chest. From the sands, "Watch your step there," Aislara murmurs to a candidate who trips over their robes as they step onto the sands. "Don't hurry. Remember to breathe." Her voice is soft, reassuring, and her faint smile to the others is meant to be encouraging. From the sands, Vashelle is with a group of other candidates, but when Oreithiya reaches for her hand, she involuntarily jerks it away, staring wide-eyed at the other candidate. Is she blushing, or is it the heat. "Sorry. Sweaty palms. Gross." The succinct explanation might have something to do with the next object of attention. Those eggs. She'll just shuffle along with the others until they find their standing spots. And yes, she's rubbing those sweaty palms on her robe. For a wonder, both she and the robe seem pretty clean. From the sands, Perfectly Normal Boring Egg twitches. The movement is so very brief and subtle that it is barely a twitch at all, especially next to the display that Girl on Fire Egg puts on. Did it even move at all? Perhaps not, for now it is still as stone. From the sands, That's apparently what the other hand is for, and Elise looks over at Bria when /their/ fingers tangle too, and she smiles and laughs breathlessly, very 'can you /believe/ this?'. Her hands /tremble/ and so does the rest of her, despite the heat. She's sweating, but shivering, shivers that run from her shoulders down to her knees, which wobble uncontrollably. Azaylia has been here for some time, perhaps showing just how eager she is to welcome Fort's newest generation. Her long, warm gown may be uncomfortable, but that's easy to ignore as the eggs begin to twitch. On the edge of her seat and wearing a look of unbridled delight... the 'Reachian weyrwoman is distracted. From the sands, Ali's gaze is flickering from egg to egg as they begin to shudder one at a time, as if trying to guess which might hatch first. She gives the candidates a brief look - and a smile of reassurance - but it /is/ brief - she's more interested in the eggs. From the sands, Dal's smile, turned first towards Elise and then towards Bria as well, is an encouraging one, if a little restrained and constrained - and hardly designed to linger. "We're fine," he repeats, perhaps as much for himself as for them. "All of us. Everything's fine. They're /moving/." It's as if he didn't expect them to, somehow. From the sands, Oreithiya waves away Vashelle's awkwardness with a tense smile, indicating for the other girl not to worry about it. She holds onto Giada, and watches the other candidates interactions briefly. Nervousness comes to play in the tenseness of posture and the shuffling of feet. The moving eggs? Oh Faranth. Does she squeeze her eyes shut just for a moment? Yep. "Oh boy." From the sands, Girl on Fire Egg ceases rocking and goes so, so still. Has its occupant given up? Is the dragonet within trapped? ...No. Flakes of fiery bronze and amber begin to spill from the shell, the whole egg collapsing about itself with the smallest of sounds and the least of flashy entrances. As eggshell melts away, an emerald-green body emerges, newly-hatched dragonet's paws finding sand with an unerring steadiness for one so young and new to the world. She lifts her nose to sniff at the air, testing it, and then she's off towards the white-robed folk, subtle challenge in her orange-whirling gaze. From the sands, >---< Enchanting Protectress Green >-----------------------------------------< Sure-footed and long of limb, not even delicate, well-presented paws can suggest any hint of fragility about this young, moonlit-emerald-bright green. She carries herself with an air of calm and secure confidence, her slim muzzle ever tipped slightly upwards to permit her to survey her surroundings. A brightness to her almond-shaped eyes betrays a hint of mischief, her slim, graceful neck breezing down to narrow shoulders always held almost perfectly level, hints of paler, more icy green beginning to collect in a faint mist about her ribcage, dispersing and building intensity as it reaches her flanks and sweeps down her long, elegant tail, which ends in a flare of sapphire. Her wingsails too are pale, though capture the glossy shine of a rough-cut gem in sunlight, hints of a darker, shadowy hue gathering along spars and wing-joints. Her talons are black, square-edged in their blunt newness, as yet of little use to inflict damage. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< From the sands, There's a squeak from Bria when she realizes that the eggs are moving and her hand tightens slightly around Elise's while her other goes up to cover her mouth. And then there's a *dragon* coming out of one of the eggs. Bria stares at it, murmuring something under her breath that looks like 'ohmyohmyohmy.' Bijedth's dark, rumbling hum joins the harmony of voices encouraging the yet-unhatched dragonets into the world, his bronze body still strapped as he slips in from the sky entrance along with the other late-comers and quickly finds a ledge high along the cavern's wall to watch the show. His late entrance likely has something to do with the cluster of Lords and Ladies who accompany N'muir into one of the spectator box arranged for such dignitaries, though the Weyrleader is struggling to feign interest in his non-dragonrider guests. Azaylia then becomes a source of refuge when she's spotted, and he abandons the dignitary box to weave his way through the crowd to the Reachian Weyrwoman, smiling just a bit too wide. "Nice to see you made it," is rather informal but it's genuine. "It's a shame there is never much notice for these things, hm?" The other of the Reaches' goldriders arrives in short order as well, none of the bubbly seafoam excitement or keen interest of her lifemate in her expression or demeanor. Aishani might spot Azaylia, but it's easy enough to leave her to her delighted, rapt egg-and-now-hatchling watching. If she's feeling much of anything beyond polite interest, it's difficult to tell, though the green's testing of the air draws a smile from her as she tries to be circumspect in finding a unobtrusive seat. From the sands, "We'll be okay," Elise is repeating to herself like a mantra, over and over. She seeks about with her eyes for a moment, maybe looking for Hattie's familiar face somewhere, but then the first hatchling hatches and she jumps, clamping down on Dal's and Bria's hands at once. More rushed now, "we'll be okay we'll be okay we'll be okay..." From the sands, Love's Tradition Egg shudders in a determined sort of way, tiny flecks of shell starting to fall away until the dragon inside is able to break free. The brown hatchling that spills from the egg is on the bulky side, struggling to stand under the weight of muscles not yet used to carrying such a large bulk with finesse. It takes him a little time to realize he's turned the wrong way around - and though Isyath and Vhaeryth are very interesting - they're not what he's looking for. Once he's pointed in the right direction his weighty steps bear him with a plodding pace, until he's selected one of the weyrbred candidates. From the sands, Dal seems even more taken aback by the presence of an actual baby /dragon/ than he was by the movement of the egg; his mouth opens into an 'o' shape, his jaw dropping just slightly. "She's pretty, though, isn't she? Small. But... /Shells/." He's run out of words, and squeezes Elise's hand, instead. From the sands, At some point during the hatching of the first egg and now, Reesa just kind of... disappeared off the sands. Which is weird, she's normally all about getting the attention. From the sands, Vashelle has probably not noticed anything around her since finding her spot to stand and watch. Every bit of focus seems to be on the eggs, some moving, some not, and when that first green steps onto the sands, she leans forward slightly, intense and... possibly terrified. Hard to tell with her. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out, and she soon closes it again so she can swallow that lump in her throat. From the sands, Oreithiya's eyes fly open when the first egg cracks and out comes a green, even going so far as to jump involuntarily. She side-steps on the sands, shifting her feet to ease the slight-cooked feeling she's getting on her soles. Now it's a matter of watching everything unfold and keeping Giada out of harm's way! As promised! E'ten had just enough time to grab his jacket before making his way down the stairs from the ledges where Adiulth continues his own welcome, so the rider may not be 'technically' late. Not with the bronzerider making his way through the galleries for a better viewing spot, standing above some of the less vertically inclined. And making his way along the wall. Not the best tactic, but it'll do for now. From the sands, "A green," Aislara murmurs to herself, throwing a smile over her shoulder and up towards where Ryerith watches. She remains to the side and otherwise quiet during the rest of the Hatching. She's there if she's needed, but now it's time to just watch the small ones enter the world. From the sands, Enchanting Protectress Green is in no hurry. She shows little interest in anything but the Candidates, not rushed by noise from the Galleries, nor by her siblings hatching to seek out their own partners. She stops to stare up at one of the youngest boys and, for the slightest of moments, it seems that her search is over. Only no, she leaves him crestfallen as she moves on to get a good look at the others too. N'rad filters in with a group of the latest arrivals, possibly riders just back from sweeps, though he soon splits off from the rest of the group. He has a rather pointed look of interest on his face as he starts angling for a good seat. He ends up more or less near N'muir and Azaylia but only nods to them, perhaps too wrapped up in the goings-on below to quite recognize who's who. "Never actually seen one of these," he announces, sounding quietly excited about the whole affair. Once riding gear is tucked tightly out of the way, he leans forward, the better to see. From the sands, Ali's just as avidly a spectator, nudging N'rov and pointing out that first green - like he might not have noticed - and then clapping with delight as the brown Impresses. Isyath's watching, now, too - the eggs are doing /interesting/ things finally. From the sands, Impression, someone Impressed. Elise's terrified stare whips around to watch that moment, but whips away again just as quickly as if she's ashamed to watch something so intimate. Her lips are trembling too so she presses them together and clenches her jaw. Hraedhyth's savage rumble is one that matches the delight worn on her rider's face, perhaps overstepping the boundaries of polite enthusiasm. No one is surprised. N'muir's approach may not be stealthy, but it might as well be with Azaylia's eyes glued to the sands and her curled fingers pressing to her chin. The din of the crowd fades in the wake of the Fortian Weyrleader's voice, not familiar though the man himself might be. "Oh. O-oh! Hello! High Reaches duties to you and your-- ooh!" A squeak, eyes torn away for only a moment before N'muir has her attention. "--hatchlings. And Queens." Breathless excitement to end the statement, smiling for N'rad. Oh, then isn't he in for a treat! From the sands, "Hey, /look/," says Dal, though it's hardly necessary, surely. His eyes are wide, and he's no longer smiling whatsoever: this is serious, serious business. From the sands, Bria is more or less speechless as more baby dragons appear and they start *Impressing.* She's trembling right along with Elise, eyes wide as she tries to watch everything all at once. She's definitely not above staring. It barely occurs to her not to stare at people when things like this aren't happening. From the sands, Is the Candidate class suddenly... bigger? Ushered in at the last minute and blending easily into the group already present, more white-robed bodies take up places on the Sands, some noticeably skittish and fidgety, whereas others seem eerily calm. Wasn't /that/ boy removed from Candidacy? Does anyone remember that blonde girl? What about the red-head eagerly taking in the scene? Is the heat of the Sands playing tricks on the mind? From the sands, Vashelle has moved on from leaning intensely to worrying her bottom lip. That first impression, if anything, relaxes her. But that isn't entirely a good thing. "You'd think they'd want to see /all/ the candidates first," she mutters toward the others nearby. "Like her," she adds, chin-nodding toward the green. "Shopping around's only a bad thing if you sleep with all of them." Because that's somehow an appropriate topic right now. From the sands, Denali smooths her hands down over her robe front while shaking samd out of herbsandals. K'zin is too excited for a weyrbrat as he climbs into the galleries, dressed sharply in his custom riding leathers and a blue silk shirt peaking from the opened jacket. It must be the excitement of his first foreign hatching that has him grinning as he finds a spot down as close to the rail as he can manage, gesturing to a spot between two small groups of natives. His scan of the sands comes first, and then galleries, glance passing over Azaylia and then back, grin widening briefly, before completing his sweep, friendly nod-smile combos offered to any and all who meet his gaze. From the sands, Glitzy Glam Egg shatters apart quickly, and the relatively small size and dark hide of the dragon that hatches from it suggests at first glance it's another brown - however, as the small dragon starts to lift his wings and let them dry in the heat of the sands it soon becomes obvious he's a dark-shaded bronze, on the small side. His stature doesn't seem to correlate to his lofty demeanor, however, as he surveys the grounds for a time before finally choosing an older boy from the Weyr. From the sands, Yes, where /did/ Razi come from? Whatever, he's there now, crowding up behind the other candidates, looking excited as ever. There might even be a slightly gloating look in Dal's direction before the Impression of the bronze nearby makes him go dead still. From the sands, At the influx of Candidates on the Hatching sands, Oreithiya's attention is momentarily drawn away from the eggs Hatching. "Razi..." That boy, the one who got taken away. And that girl, and that one there. She glances from Candidates to the Weyr's leaders. Oh and let's not forget the eggs, that /also/ tug at the limited scope of her attention as yet another weyr-bred boy is Impressed. Sputtering at Vashelle, Rei turns a startled look to the other girl. From the sands, All at once, Perfectly Normal Boring Egg is struck from within, and its shell is splintered with cracks. Another strike is delivered and cracks appear on the egg's other side, crude lines cutting across the pale ovoid from one side to the other until one last blow from within sends shell fragments flying in every direction. From the sands, >---< Too Much of a Good Thing Brown >---------------------------------------< The soft brown of canvas wraps over his lanky frame, muted hues of raw sienna sweeping from the tip of his nose down his knobby legs until being gobbled up by the chocolate that paints his paws and the very tip of his forked tail. He is all legs, tail, and wings for now, sails of pale camel framed by wingspars brushed with the same sepia tone that pools in the tender crevases where arms and legs meet belly. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< From the sands, Wait are there more... people? Elise realizes there's a rush of excitement from behind them, people in the galleries reacting to the sudden appearance of more candidates, and looks back at them and then around. "What is... /Razi/." /Razi/. It's part anger and part... relief? From the sands, It's as Dal turns his head to see the Impression of that bro - /bronze/, that his brow furrows, and he frowns. "Isn't that -" And then, "/Elise/." He's frozen, his stance abruptly unsteady. "/Razi/." For a moment, it looks like he's about to spring into action. From the sands, N'rov does not look happy, and frankly, neither does Ali. The two are whispering quickly, the weyrwoman visibly tense as she notices the new arrivals on the sands. There's not a lot she can do about it right now, but she's twisting, seeking out the gaze of the Weyrleaders. From her perch at the edge of one row, Aishani spies E'ten and his edging along the wall, lifting a hand by way of greeting and giving him a little shrug. What can you do at these things? /She's/ in no rush to give up her seat, though by the side-eye she gives the over-enthusiastic man next to her might mean he'll get an elbow in the side 'accidentally' after not too long. Her attention shifts back to the sands, then fine brows come together slowly. Wait. How many people were out there again? "Er..." How does one put /that/? From the sands, Sentenced to Servitude Egg begins to rock back and forth, the movement so tiny as to be almost obscure. It's still for a while, then there's one big push, rolling it a little ways across the sands. From the sands, Bria being Bria, when other candidates appear and she notices Razi, she uses her free hand to wave at him. "Hi, Razi!" But that's all she says. There's more important things to be watching. Like baby dragons and rocking eggs! From the sands, Reesa's hovering there at the edge of the sands again now, waiting to usher off that new bronzerider. She seems blithely oblivious to all the fuss of the new arrivals - well, the human ones, anyway. She's more interested in the hatchlings. From the sands, Worthiest of Souls Egg cracks apart piece by piece - first a wing, then a leg, then a tail finally emerging into the light. The dark, wiry bronze untangles himself quickly and heads immediately towards a wide-eyed, older boy whose expression indicates he might well have been searched and dumped onto the sands only moments ago. The wonder that springs into his eyes as Impression takes hold is genuine and startled. From the sands, To Dal, "I /know/." Elise sees him. Right there behind them. "What are you doing here!" she hisses, more startled than anything else. That is /not/ supposed to happen. And then hatching things happen and she stares hard ahead. Late, but stylishly so, of course, Deveriteauxth alights on the ledges. R'co makes his way through from the bowl, up into the galleries, shedding riding gear as he goes; it's all tucked into a bag that's slung over his shoulder. Up and along the rows he goes, nodding a greeting to those locals he knows as he passes them, and those fellow riders from High Reaches are given a playul wink - well, some of them. Azaylia and Aishani, for sure - they even get a cutesy, finger-wiggling wave. He takes a seat not far from the latter, where a Fortian rider's been saving a spot for him. From the sands, It's difficult to tell whether Hattie has noticed what's unfolding on the Sands or not, since her attention is being determindly captured by an agitated, insistent-looking Holder. Her nearness to the Sands doesn't help her at all, though she /does/ keep shooting glances towards the Candidates, looking none too pleased. Time to excuse herself, one way or another. Aishani does not go unnoticed, and while N'muir offers the other Reachian Weyrwoman a welcoming smile, his Bijedth does much the same to her gold counterpart. Still, there's no tromping over to greet her because suddenly N'muir's gaze is staring down at the Sands, brows wrinkling with first confusion then outrage. "Pardon me, there's-..." But that's all he manages to utter before he's making his way down the stands and disappearing. From the sands, She Was a Star Egg rolls over, coming to a rest against the egg next to it. Some industrious wiggling later finally leads to a blue spilling out onto the hot sands, quick to right himself. He takes two steps, and stops. Another two steps, then another rest - though it seems less like he's resting and more like he's taking the moment to cast calculating, intelligent gaze over the candidates. His slow, sidelong approach finally sees him settled pointedly in front of a Ruathan boy, who exclaims, "What? Yes! Hungry, right!" before he's shuffled off helpfully by one of the assistant weyrlingmasters. From the sands, There's a wary cast in Razi's gaze for the dragons moving around, but Bria's wave brings him edging closer towards where she and Dal are standing. "I'm a candidate, aren't I? I got searched - I deserve to be here." He may be answering Elise's question, but it's more for Dal's tone, tense himself, as if ready for... well, anything. From the sands, "You /were/ a candidate," is Dal's hasty retort. "Get off the sands. You're not supposed to /be/ here." It's a hiss, more unpleasant a tone of voice than the Fortian candidate is known to employ. His free hand has been balled up into a fist, but he's hesitating - his attention keeps getting caught by other things. From the sands, Enchanting Protectress Green slows in her intense study of the Candidates, her opinion of those nearest to her expressed with a dissatisfied sniff as she turns very slowly and deliberately from them to take neat, purposeful steps towards the girl all darkness and light with her creamed-klah complexion against the paleness of her robe. She makes no fuss, but completes a possessive circuit around the former stablehand's ankles before simply sitting at her feet to stare adoringly and approvingly up at her. She is /hers/ now. From the sands, Oreithiya struggles to keep her attention on what's important -- the eggs -- but with so /much/ to draw her attention, she's finding it hard to keep her eye on one single thing. Letting go of Giada's hand to push sweat-dampened hair behind her ears, she spots /Vashelle/. "/Vash/!" The first Candidate to Impress that she's close to. Azaylia gives a doubletake as N'muir excuses himself, and for a moment the weyrwoman is fretting over unsatisfactory greetings or manners. During this worry, following the bronzerider, she catches sight of a more familiar face. K'zin is given a smile that's a touch strained, though it does brighten some with R'co's playful wing. But then, /impression/, and N'muir's on the sands-- there's no pulling her attention away /now/. Indeed. Catching Aishani's eye, E'ten lifts both shoulders upwards in a mirrored posture of the other goldrider's. About to lift one hand in greeting, the movement might be a touch delayed. While he spots N'muir's decent down the stairs, he doesn't follow. Instead, letting his eyes follow down to the sands, he completes the gesture of a wave before moving towards the foreign rider. He'll have to politely get past the larger seat neighbor first. From the sands, "Oh, no. Guys, don't talk like that. You'll scare away the babies or something. Can't it wait until after?" Bria is still clinging to Elise's hand but she glances between Razi and Dal uncertainly. From the sands, N'muir jogs out onto the Sands but stalls his quick pace, attention on N'rov as if his link were with his wingmate rather than the bronze looming far, far overhead. His attention shifts to the Candidates, dagger-gaze cutting sharply from one to the other from where he stays, waiting like an uncertain predator from the sidelines. From the sands, Va-va-voom Egg shakes once, twice, thrice - before splitting almost evenly down the middle. The brown that emerges is a bulky sort, and he shuffles his way across the sands, examining and dismissing each candidate he passes. He's looking for something specific, and when he finds it, he stops short, settling back onto his haunches and staring directly at Razi. The boy, who was supposedly thrown out of candidacy, shudders, taking a step back, then a step forward, shaking his head abruptly. He mutters something, too low to be heard, and then a moment later, yells it, "Tajireth! He's Tajireth!" Aishani's wave for R'co is distracted, as she's more concerned with what's going down with the candidates, flashing N'muir a smile in return, but as she's about to gesture, seeming relieved that he's gone down to the sands, for all that there's not looking to be a lot of cause to think that'll end things. The goldrider's glance back to E'ten as he makes his way over is frankly concerned. Elbowing the man a seat down with a glare, making room for the bronzerider, "This isn't good on any level, is it?" From the sands, Vashelle sees the extra candidates, sure. But does she /notice/ them? "Oy, there are /dragons/," she says to Elise and Dal. She's been listening after all, apparently. "Who cares who else is here, if your dra-- aa-. Ah." Dark eyes are turning toward that first green. If possible, they grow even bigger. Those nearby /might/ hear a small, quiet voice utter something very much like "oh shells", but with all that commotion, it could be something else. When the green finishes her circuit, the nervousness melts into sheer delight. "Vash, yeah," she states, crouching down. Hand pauses a few inches from the green's face, then cups the little jawline. "Oh! Yeah, you /are/ hungry, aren't you. We, uh..." Vash stands up abruptly and starts heading toward... someone with authority. Over there. "She says she's Ihvaiyth!" the girl announces while going down the line, the little green at her side. From the sands, "Oh shut up," Elise mutters, for Razi, because he has a point and because she's trying to /concentrate/. Though now, where before she was a shaking arrangement of bones, now a little smile curves her mouth. "Don't pay them any attention," she adds for Bria, squeezes her hand, and then Vashelle... "Oh..." Rhenth and B'rant were here the whole time, honest! The young bronze, especially, wouldn't miss this day, since he quietly fancies himself the clutch's uncle, of sorts. As for the tall and never lordling, he's seated upon his dragon's neck, overlooking the whole thing from up on the owest of the hatching ledges. From the sands, There might well have been a response from Razi to Dal, along with the balling up of fingers, but the candidate - no, the /weyrling/ - can't take his gaze off the dragon that's looking at /him/. Tajireth. From the sands, There's no steady, constant rhythm that breaks open the Sentenced to Servitude Egg at last. Rather, it's a push to one side, a shove to the other, a wedging of paw against paw against paw inside that slippery shell. Does it matter which force breaks it open? What matters is /that/ it opens, and that out tumbles an earthy brown dragonet upon momentum of his own making. From the sands, >---< Push Comes to Shove Brown >--------------------------------------------< The dragonet's edges, from ridges to wingspars to talons, might have been chipped from stone instead of anything so fragile as glass. A dark grayed brown, it hasn't the ruddy nature of his blockier, boulder-like flanks and shoulders; it shadows speculative eyes and then stairsteps down his lean neck, all the way to the blunter tip of his tail. Along his wingspan, shadowed ferns seem to unfurl between those spars, paler but not pale, greener but not green. His paws are large and even darker than his talons, his very footsteps weighty. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< From the sands, Dal can only /stare/ as his attention gets caught first by Vashelle, and then by Razi - and it's obvious that the latter is not making him happy whatsoever. "No," he breathes. "No, no. That's not supposed to happen. I /tried/." The glance he aims at Ali is horrified and apologetic. From the sands, Isyath, at least, seems unperturbed by the goings on, even if her rider is visibly agitated, attempting to wave the Weyrleader over towards them, and pointing out several of the candidates. The /new/ candidates. Except... that's about when Ali notices one of them Impressing with a stunned look. From the sands, And Razi. /And/ Razi. And /Razi/. Elise stares. From the sands, Hard-boiled Egg twitches and wiggles, like the occupant just can't wait to escape. Moments later the plain shell shatters, revealing a blue within the midst of the shards. He doesn't take long to find his feet, heading straight over to investigate the candidates. The blue hatchling regards a younger blonde with a deliberate stare, sneaking closer. Yes, this one! In his haste to make his Impression, there's a bit of tangled limbs and breathless laughing which leads to the dragon's name being quite inaudible - but his Impressee seems happy, if a little sandy by the time they sort themselves out. From the sands, Hattie doesn't manage to make it very far from her spot in the galleries, questions called to her from worried or outraged parents, each making references to the 'other' group of Candidates. Why was /their/ child in one group, not the other? Why two groups? She doesn't /stop/ to answer any of them, but it's looking like she's either going to have to start shoving at people or shouting to get free. K'zin's next sweep of the galleries takes in Aishani (and there's a smile and nod for her if she's looking), but his attention is stolen quickly by the happenings on the sands. There's some kind of excitement going on there, beyond the Impressions. His brows furrow and his look becomes more serious than excited and he watches intently. From the sands, Denali claps as impressions happen all arpund even though she frowns when Razi impresses as well. From the sands, And Razi.. wait, no, /R'zi/ is far too distracted, beginning to escort Tajireth from the sands without a backwards glance at his erstwhile companions. From the sands, Too Much Of A Good Thing brown hatchling explodes from his shell and doesn't wait to learn how to use his feet before he's awkwardly galloping across the Sands, his wobbly legs giving out every few steps so that he's half-galloping half-summersalting towards the line of youngsters. He creens loudly and caws at the row of Candidates that he's making his way towards. He knows who he wants, and he isn't going to just stand around wasting time learning to walk. Unfortunately, he doesn't make it all the way there before he's tumbling over and landing in a tangled heap of long legs, wings, and tail. And from the pile of tangled dragonet, there is one singular caw as if to say 'Hey. Are you gonna' help or are you just gonna' stand there?' From the sands, Ebeny steps forward to guide Vashelle and Ihvaiyth from the Sands, reaching out to encourage the pair towards her without touching either of them at all. "Come along. Vash and... Ihvaiyth, was it? We'll get her fed and settled." E'ten isn't one for much elaboration for the direction the Weyrleader took towards the sands, politely murmuring to those he passes on the way to that empty seat next to Aishani. "Well, it's too early to say. Only, I'm sure that everything will work out somehow," he replies, voice turning rueful as he spots Razi and the general feeling among some of the candidates. "But those on the sands should be paying more attention to the dragonets." He doesn't want to be on call immediately afterwards on what should be a celebratory day. "How have you been? You and Iesaryth, that is. Unfortunately, I don't get out to High Reaches that often." From the sands, /Razi/? Oreithiya gives the other boy a look but its for Vashelle that she calls out a congratulations as the other girl is a Candidate no more. She backs up a little as if sensing the tension the other group of Candidates has brought. Wait -- who did that brown Impress too? Pushing up on her tip toes, the girl tries to find out. From the sands, Study in Sanity Egg moves to one side and then the other. Isn't that a little incorrect? It's not supposed to be wedging itself. But maybe, just maybe if it's positioning itself juust right. From the sands, "Oh my gosh! Razi!" While everyoen else is kind of annoyed or mad at Razi, Bria looks happy that those feelings haven't kept the boy from Impressing. "Look! He impressed!" Just in case Dal and Elise didn't notice. But then there's a brown dragon that isn't Razi's that Bria is *STARING* at. "Oh my," she says. Then she lets go of Elise's hand and moves over to it to help him with his legs like it's the most natural thing on the planet. Someone was stuck at 'Reaches doing wingsecondly things, and it's only now that Alida's hurrying into Fort's galleries, the woman craning her head and looking around for anyone familiar. After some moments spent moving and peering, K'zin's tall head pops up, and the palest-blonde's heading his direction. From the sands, That brown is far too close for Dal's peace of mind, at least in one sense, and he can't seem to stop himself from skittering backwards as he tumbles so near. His eyes widen, and leave him hesitating, as though he's not quite sure what to do next - though at least it has distracted him from the Razi issue. Bria rather distracts him all over again. "/Bria/?" On /brown/? /Shells/. From the sands, Vashelle is lost, lost, and... look! Ebeny. "/Thank/ you," Vash states with relief, suddenly all sorts of smiles at everyone. Is there politics afoot? Vash notices not. "Yeah, let's get out of the way. Ihvaiyth. /Ihvaiyth/. That's so nice. Let's find you some food." She beams at Ebeny again, then departs. There's something /interesting/ going on down there, and R'co's Fortian buddy doesn't seem to know much more about it than he does. So, the Reaches brownrider leans down towards E'ten and Aishani in the row in front of him, gently clearing his throat so as not to be accused of eavesdropping, or something. "What in Faranth's name is going on down there?" From the sands, And... "Bria." Elise jerks her hand away and moves closer to Dal to get away from Bria and her new lifemate, away from that moment entirely. "Bria, congratulations." Even if the chances are slim that she's even going to /hear/ her. K'zin has wedged himself as close to the front of the galleries as he could get between two groups of locals, and with all the action on-going on the sands, his attention is glued to the sands. It makes him thoroughly unaware of the approaching platinum predator. From the sands, Push Comes to Shove Brown's on his feet almost immediately, stalking off across the sands, totally oblivious to that other drama. He's headed directly for the candidates, no distractions, no detours. There's a deliberation about the way he pauses to examine each candidate before moving towards the next. He knows exactly what he wants, and he knows when it isn't there, his weighty steps deliberate, perhaps sometimes accidentally getting a /little/ too close to the candidates he's already dismissed, if they're in his way. Aishani, like just about everyone else, is all too caught up in the drama on the sands to do much but watch... though the crowd around Hattie drags her attention away momentarily, expression conflicted and sympathetic. To E'ten, grimly, "It'll have to, won't it, but they'll get on about exiling people during hatchings after this. Who knows where that'll end?" The goldrider is apparently somewhat more aware of Fort's affairs. "Would you save Hattie if she doesn't get out of that crowd soon? And we're been feeling... liberated. Oh!" R'co surprises her, but quietly -- like it's a secret? -- "Some of those candidates were removed from candidacy, as I understand." From the sands, N'muir looks almost helplessly from Ali to N'rov in the wake of R'zi heading off the sands, and the steps that carry the Weyrleader to Ali's side are not so rushed. A look is cast up at the stands but his words are for Ali. "Do you still want me to make a scene of taking away the others?" From the sands, It's Always Sunny Egg shimmies and shakes, a constant quivering that never abates as energy rolls off of the entity within in a desperate attempt at freedom. The movement does what is intended, forcing cracks to appear along the shell, forcing shards to fall off leaving pieces of hide to shine through. Blue? Green? Brown? What is it? No need to wonder for long, as the egg hatches and and small green is left in the wake of disaster. Not a single second is wasted as the green hatchling is up on her feet and taking off across the sands. There's no wandering or sniffing of candidates, oh no! No need. As she already has the one she wants sighted in her swirling eyes. Coming to a complete halt right in front of Giada, the little green head butts the girl. BAM! Impression! Giada only stares, quite stupified, at what is now a dragon of her very own. Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. Finally, words actually form and in a stuttering mess she's able to get out. "H-h-her name is... Llieralaith!" She politely moves and jogs past various people along her way, and somehow, Alida manages to wedge herself between two weyrfolk and just behind K'zin. She might be rather daring, but the woman slowly settles her hands on either of the bronzer's shoulders, then her chin upon his head, if possible, and rumbles to him, "Thanks fer the headrest, toots." Grin. Her eyes are pretty much all for the rupturing eggs out there, too. From the sands, "/Bria/", Oreithiya gasps, watching as yet another Candidate she's familiar with Impresses. She shuffles her feet as the heat of the sands gets intense. And then there's /Giada/. "Giada!" This time she /does/ stumble back to find herself alone in the pack. With both the girls she was next to having been claimed. From the sands, Dal's voice is full of awe and surprise. "Bria Impressed a /brown/," he says to Elise, as if she's not already aware of that (as if!). "He got so close to us. /Shells/." Words really are failing him, and the tall candidate, usually so stoic, seems caught between a dozen emotions, all at once. "Did you hear the name at all?" From the sands, Well - at least there's some /normal/ Impressions to distract Ali, clapping for them, but she's still whispering furiously with N'rov, who appears just as unhappy about this turn of events. N'muir's arrival earns a breath of relief, because he knows how to fix things! Except not. "I don't- know." Or was that no? Kind of hard to tell - the junior just looks on helplessly. From the sands, There's not much wibbly-wobble associated with this egg. Not excessively. A lean to the right. Another lean to the left before one crack and then another bump from the inside sends the shards flying outward. From the sands, >---< Utterly Reasonable Logical and Green >---------------------------------< As smooth as water, this dragonet's hide is a green with hints of aquamarine as if blurred into her general color, much like the waters found in Boll or even points further south. Her sleekness is constant throughout forearms and hind legs, and even her ridges lend themselves to a gentle curve that could be found in the most subtle of waves. With well-defined color throughout, the only difference may be in her wingsails. Speckled more along the underside of the sail, there are hints of gold, green, and an entire myriad of colors. On closer examination, this same trend flickers across each talon with a slight oddity of a tail that seems to be shorter than her clutchmates'. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< From the Stands last time, and now from his own dragon, B'rant watches the hustle and bustle of Impressions taking place, the gray-eyed aristocrat occasionally murmuring quiet things to Rhenth on occasion, none of them overhearable from their spot on the lowest ledge. From the sands, Hattie finally manages to find her way to the stairs and begins her half-tripping and quite ungraceful way down them, having to suddenly steady herself as she reaches the final row of seating and access to the Sands themselves. She doesn't step onto them just /yet/, but watches those she's identified as being from the second group of Candidates; watches the hatchlings too, as if she could stop them from choosing 'wrong'. Or is it truly that? From the sands, "I didn't," Elise replies unsteadily, bumping shoulders with Dal in her escape. "Dal, I don't..." Know? Want? Something. She's all over the place right now. From the sands, Utterly Reasonable Logical and Green looks about the shards of her egg before taking one slow step, then another on her path. It's not towards her dam and sire that she travels but towards the white robed candidates. This one? No. What about that one? No. For each up and down bob of her muzzle, she seems to be certain in her observations of the candidates. Meticulously so. From the sands, Dal nudges his shoulder back at Elise, and squeezes her hand. "I know," he says, quietly. "I know. Look - there's another green. Maybe she'll come this way and pick you." For himself, Dal doesn't seem to be eyeing up any of them, though he's keeping a careful eye on any hatchlings who might decide to step too close. From the sands, It's likely that Bria hasn't quite realized that she's Impressed to a brown and not a gold like she'd planned just yet. There's surely an overwhelming amount of other things going on in her head right now as she helps him with his legs and up onto his paws like she knows precisely how a baby dragon works. "I'm hungry, too, Gryth. I haven't eaten *all* day. They kicked me out of the kitchens earlier. I think they knew you were coming." E'ten doesn't even react to the knowledge that there's a whole lot of Fortian news floating about in places other than Fort. Instead, frowning even more as he looks over one shoulder to spot Hattie and her intended path, he's just sat but likely to begin moving to stand. "Me versus a crowd? I won't have any other choice," he says, spotting the Weyrwoman's arrival finally with a break free of the crowd to descend onto the sands before he moves to sit again. And no, that frown isn't disappearing in the line of seeing yet another egg hatch. Aren't these supposed to be happy events? "I think they won't go that far. It's a little more complicated than that," he murmurs for the two riders nearest to him. In a crowd the size of those that attend things like hatchings, one has to expect a certain amount of bump and brush with other people. What K'zin does not expect is Alida's hands and then her chin arriving on his shoulders and head respectively. Hopefully, the little jump he makes doesn't cause her to bite her tongue or anything unfortunate like that. "Shells, woman. Trying to get me out of my clothes and skin all in one fell swoop?" The bronzer's baritone is full of mock consternation. "Y'made it, finally, I see. You've missed quite a bit, but I'm sure not all of the excitement is over." There are still eggs after all. From the sands, Oreithiya's hands clasp behind her back, watching the Hatching with a teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip. Heart in her throat, her eyes are wide. From the sands, Denali does the hotfoot shuffle as she moves in closer to the others still on the sands. From the sands, Crazed Comic Egg barely shakes before large cracks begin springing down the side of it. Moments later, a tiny green bursts from her shell, in a ball of energy. She's dizzying to watch, if one follows her, flittering from investigating her dam and sire with a happy little greeting, to nudging (then tripping over) one of the other eggs, until she finally comes to rest somewhere behind the candidates after a long, circuitous inspection of the galleries. It's a weyrbred girl from the lower caverns that finally claims her, the roar of her parent's dragons audible from the ledges as the girl clings to the tiny green's head. "Huh," R'co replies to Aishani's explanation, tapping the side of his nose as if it might be itchy, but he's too polite to scratch it in public. His blue eyes search the Sands, looking from hatchlings to candidates, new weyrlings to clutchparents and riders, before his attention's caught by Hattie. Her descent has his brow creasing in concern, and he doesn't lean back any yet; the gold- and bronzerider would seem to have an extra voice in their conversation, at least for the moment. "Perhaps those candidates should have been taken further away, to avoid such... incidents?" His voice is low, just for E'ten and Aishani to hear. From the sands, The Push Comes to Shove dragonet leaves massive footprints in his wake, already beginning to fill in even where they aren't disrupted by his trailing tail. He moves with deliberation, staring right at the tall blond teenager he's begun to head for, until at last he's /there/ and snuffling his chosen all over. From the sands, Wyriker's there, or, uh, here - staring at the brown that's now claimed him. Now I'ke, the newest brownrider announces his new dragon's name: "Torayth!" From the sands, "Don't... don't say that," Elise urges Dal, with a little tug on his hand. And maybe she sidesteps to be a little bit behind him, awkwardly, just in case. Shocked? Yes. Numb? Getting there. Too much happening! She was readied for a start, a jump, or even an elbow in the guts, and when K'zin lurches a little, Alida lifts her chin in reaction, soon settling it right back down on Waki's grape again. "Effin' duties kept me." He cannot, of course, see her eyecross. "Came as soon as we could. 'Caeth's watchin' from one uv the ledges up there." Cue a lift of chin to the general 'up there' direction. "We'll take what we c'n get." Snert. Like the tiny green and the brown Impressing right about now. Azaylia's joy at each impression is tainted by worry, attention torn between the hatchlings and the trouble clearly worn on face of leadership down on the sands. From the sands, No. Wait... No. Not that one. With each slow but firm step of the Utterly Reasonable Logical and Green Hatchlings's paws, she keeps looking left and then right in hopes of seeing her target. Her person as they should be and always have been. Ah. There. This one, I choose. From the sands, As the excitement of the hatching starts to fade and the last of the weyrling pairs are being ushered off the sands, whispers begin spreading - both in the galleries and by those left on the sands. There /is/ one egg still left - but The Egg That Was on Fire hasn't moved the whole hatching. The candidates aren't yet ushered off, as the Weyrleaders, as well as Ali and N'rov gather around. There's some discussion, words carrying across the grounds like 'duty', and 'between', then the Weyrwoman heads to address the candidates as the Weyrleader moves towards the egg. Not quite relieved that the Fortian Weyrwoman's broken free, but certainly looking less like she'll climb over there to cause an incident, Aishani gives E'ten a sidelong look, dark eyes deeply worried. "I never, ever underestimate how far anyone is willing to go when they find someone to blame. And it's always complicated, isn't it." She's only faintly edgy for the topic, thumbnail at her lips momentarily. With a glance down to R'co and a purse of lips, "That was the argument. I'm unsure that sending people... Well. It's not my place to say." Not /here/ anyway. Maybe at home. Maybe in private. Her gaze is restless over the sands. B'rant doesn't look too pleased with the small ruckus down there on the Sands, but unless they're summoned by the leadership, he and Rhenth can't really do much more than watch and guard. The stripling bronze's eyes whirl a lavender-blue, his basso rumble added to the various draconic voices. From the sands, Oreithiya gasps, watching as Wyriker and Dal Impress. She brings hands up to her lips, looking like she's about to flee as the Hatching winds down. However, with one last egg and no official word of release, Oreithiya stands mute. Is she eyeballing the exit? Oh, yes. From the sands, N'dalis's apology, though quiet, is genuine. "Sorry -" But that green /is/ coming their way... only it isn't /Elise/ she's interested in. The breath that escapes is an indescribable one. Elise's hand gets dropped, and then Dal drops, too: drops, to cradle the head of that perfect green in front of him. "Of course you do, sweetheart," he says. "But I can fix that. /Suraieth/." From the sands, Dal... Dal. "Dal." Elise comes out of hiding and drifts away from her. Wyriker too? She stares first at one, then the other. Her boys! Gone! "Dal I'm so... happy for you." He can't hear her, or maybe he can, so she just smiles down at him with lips parted in total wonder. From the sands, Reesa's moving forward to usher I'ke and his brown off the sands, glancing back over her shoulder at the non-moving egg with a little purse of her lips. From the sands, There's a single moment in which Dal /does/ look away from the green - /his/ green - and catch Elise's gaze. He's smiling, the kind of unhesitating smile that no one at the Weyr has ever seen him wearing; it's beatific. And then he looks away again: back at his green, and at the exit they're directed towards. From the sands, When Hattie moves on the Sands, it's with far more care than her downward dash towards them was. She gives a long look after the Weyrleader and the still and unmoving egg, then takes a deep breath and lifts her voice to address the Candidates. "Firstly, you're all very welcome to remain at the Weyr for as long as you wish," she tells them. "Just because you didn't Impress today, it doesn't mean you never will. All it means is that your dragon wasn't here today. It may be disheartening, but it is not an /end/ to anything." Hattie gestures towards the entryway that leads from the cavern. "There will be a feast, which you are more than welcome to attend. What you choose to do now... is entirely up to you." And, leaving their immediate futures in the Candidates' hands, she steps back and turns to seek out her junior. From the sands, Familiar as the words of Hattie's are, Oreithiya's always a little surprised to be left standing and hearing them again. Shoulders straighten, and she gives a glance back to the galleries to the one face that gives her what she needs to collect herself. With a tight expression, she turns to flee the sands, with one glance remaining to the unmoving egg. It's all well and done, now. And oh look, to add to it all... "That egg didn't hatch." R'co can see it, he can hear the murmurs around them - and that Hattie's giving 'the talk' to those remaining candidates suggests very clearly that they've given up on it. He bites on his lip, resting his hand on his cheek, elbow propped on his knees. "I've certainly seen /less/ dramatic hatchings," he comments lightly, with an amused little snort. "Though there were some /darling/ little ones. And that last greenrider..." That thought trails off, though the suggestion behind it is probably clear. From the sands, Dal's smile brings the tear down that was just hanging there waiting in the corner of Elise's eye. She brushes it away quickly, turns to listen to Hattie and, with a deep breath to collect herself, she picks up the baggy folds of her robe and lifts her chin as she takes her exit. Dignity. And she does not look at the galleries. Time for facing /Them/ soon enough. From the sands, Denali gives the last egg a sad look befotr turning to follow the others leaving off the sands. Her chin is upand a smile on her face but theres no bounce in her steps as she departs from the heat. From the sands, Ali's gaze is glued to the egg - and then the Weyrleader's path towards it. Otherwise she's still, mute as Hattie approaches, trying to force a polite smile for the crowd and the candidates still remaining. Azaylia begins to wilt, eyes locked on the egg left on the sand. Her smile fades, and the aura of unbridled mirth slowly fades for a quiet, somber moment. But there will be the feast after, though that's the furthest thing from her mind. "Wait... wait, what?" N'rad asks, suddenly confused. He's kind of a newbie here, so... those pale blue eyes are looking at the others around him. "Does that /usually/ happen?" the blonde asks those who might know better. "I mean..." He knows not what he means, so he goes back to watching the activity below, sinking into contemplation. "It's certainly another talk for later," E'ten remarks to Aishani with a look over one shoulder to R'co with a resigned sigh as he spots the egg still remaining on the sands. "Will you and the other riders from High Reaches be staying on for the feast? By the way, how are you and.. Deveriteauxth doing, R'co?" Asked with a look towards N'rad's question there's a slow shake of his head with a press of his lips to follow. "No, but we can talk about that later, if you want the discussion on it." A short one, but it's a response nonetheless. There's one unhatched, unliving egg left? For that sadness, Rhenth offers a deep and profoundly sad croon, the bronze's eyes shadowed with a swirl of grey amidst the blue of happiness. Receiving a rub of condolence from his rider, the young bronze soon enough recovers, adding a warm warble to the din on the Grounds, then soon moving off and launching himself and B'rant into the wintery air outside. The unmoving egg has Aishani slowly sobering, falling quiet, her hand covering her mouth and dark eyes wide. Her gaze shifts from it to Hattie, then the clutchparents, obviously. "No," she agrees with R'co, eventually. "I don't know how we'd feel about that." Distracted, it seems she's more concerned how other people might be feeling about it. Trying on a quick smile, she tells the brownrider, "Better to look at what they do have, I think, yes." Still, she's not quite able to shake the sombre mood that's spreading. To E'ten's question, "I... I'm not sure about anyone else, but I suppose it's better to go on as expected. I should make sure... things are all right." 'Things'. With a gentle swallow, "Sometimes... yes. Not /often/. I don't think?" Azaylia's gaze is torn from the egg, to N'rad and then E'sren. Her breath is let out as a short, purposeful little gust, the weyrwoman rising to her feet. With a polite smile, she turns for the cooler caverns and a drink in mind. K'zin's manner had already turned sober before Alida's arrival, giving way to that single moment of mirth before the most recent happenings on the sands has K'zin frowning. He takes a breath, leaning forward a little to better catch some of Hattie's words to the remaining candidates, heedless of the impact that might have on his status as chin-rest. Then it's over and he's leaning back a little, tilting his head to murmur to Alida, "That's sure to put a bit of a shadow on the hatching feast, but..." He trails off a moment before extricating himself and standing, climbing onto his bench and then stepping into the aisle directly in front of Alida, offering an arm. "Hungry? Maybe you'll even dance with me this time. If you think you can manage not to step on my feet." His smirk has humor, but there's heaviness under it. From the sands, Bronze wings flutter down from above, Bijedth's cautious descent from above wary of gold and fellow bronze. Once on the Sands, Bijedth gently hugs the egg, tender care given to it despite its lifelessness, silent reverence given from both rider and dragon as N'muir climbs up into his lifemate's straps. It's brief but N'muir's gaze touches on Ali from the height of Bijedth's neckridges before the bronze pair are gently lifting up and away from the Sands, their precious cargo cradled lovingly up and away, disappearing into the snowy sky. From the sands, As for those 'other' Candidates... They won't get far. She's not smiling, either, the sight of that unhatched, lone egg a bit of a weight on Alida, as well. But, the blonde is pragmatic, as always, and she nods to Waki's offer, easily taking up his arm, and accompanying him towards the feast. She's glad she cannot see the Weyrleader's bronze hugging that egg, or she might actually sniffle and have to rub at her eyes. "Food..." is murmured to her pal. From the sands, Isyath - with a last nudging gesture towards Ali - lifts into the sky shortly after Bijedth, but not to follow. Instead she takes up her usual place high in the Fortian skies, barely visible amongst the snow. R'co rests a gentle, brief touch on Aishani's shoulder. "There was one in the clutch Deveriteauxth sired." He watches N'muir, shoulders and smile sinking as he watches the egg get carried away. "But there's a beautiful clutch of weyrlings to make up for that one, now, isn't there?" Clearing his throat, and tucking his loose blonde hair back behind his ear, R'co turns a smile to E'ten. "Oh, Deveriteauxth's absolutely /wonderful/, darl-- E'ten. /E'ten/. Must remember that - sorry. There's barely a mark on him though, you did such an /amazing/ job. Superb stitching. I owe you a drink or two for it; or perhaps you'd settle for a basket of bath goodies?" His Fortian friend leans in towards him then, resting a hand on R'co's shoulder to try and get his attention. The brownrider leans back, distracted by him for a moment; then the other man gets up and leaves, so R'co can lean back in to his conversation. Slowly, Ali makes her way towards the galleries. There's a redness to her gaze, but it's mostly downcast, and she doesn't seem inclined to linger. Instead, she pauses long enough to cast off those thick-soled sandals, throw a fur cloak around her shoulders, and then she moves to brave the cold of the bowl. With possibly just /one/ last look towards the sands. "At the very least, I think that I can keep you company until certain company has properly made the rounds at the feast." E'ten's never been known to be clueless, though he does mean N'rov as he looks up to see who's staying and who's leaving. Not to mention, anyone getting expelled from the sands. So much to keep track of. And yet, the bronzerider stands with a look towards the bowl with a glimpse of Ali in the process. Enough time for him to regard R'co with a press of lips and a look that fades once the other man remembers his name. "Good. I should have checked in earlier but, it's been rather busy here as of late. Drinks would be fine. I'm not.. much into the idea of bath goodies." The Reachian goldrider doesn't always react well to someone getting into her personal space; Aishani twitches a touch at R'co's hand on her shoulder, but she doesn't seem /offended/. Perhaps it's nothing personal. "Perhaps you can offer some empathy, then," she tells the brownrider, then briefly amused by the discussion about the brown -- but that fades as she catches sight of Ali passing through. "Though it's difficult to know what to /do/, is it not?" Or say. As for E'ten's offer of company, she flashes a brief smile. "Thank you. It's appreciated. I hope... it'll be all right." For him, for them. N'rad has gone from confused to stunned to... something else. He nervously rubs his hands together, brows furrowed, then he decides cutting and leaving might be the best plan, so riding gear is gathered up, then he joins some of the other clumps of people making for the stairs. He glances over at E'ten, about to finally reply with something, then... just keeps going. He knows how to find the other rider later, should those questions still plague him. Back into the cold. "Drinks it is then, E'ten. Though... perhaps a little later?" R'co's smile is soft when he nods at Aishani. "I'll be around, if I'm needed. Perhaps even at the feast a little later, but for now..." He smirks, gently clearing his throat. "I've got a rather /fine/ Fortian waiting for me in his weyr. If you'll excuse me, weyrwoman, bronzerider?" Up he gets, weaving his way through the crowd toward where Deveriteauxth waits. |
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